A Prayer
by Tsukasa Kizuna
Summary: Tōsen x Shūhei. Tōsen watching over his sleeping lover, thinking of the past, and of things yet to come. Fluff, angst. Takes place just as things are set in motion for the betrayal.


Contains: shonen-ai, fluff, angst.  
Warnings: none.

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**A Prayer**

...

He sighed, sitting carefully at the head of the bed and guarding his sleeping lover. Fingers brushed carefully through the soft, dark hair, smoothing it into place before gently ruffling it so he could repeat the process, calming his own mind. It brought tranquillity to his soul when he felt Shūhei softly fall asleep in his embrace, a kind of peace unrivalled in the contentment and completion it filled his heart and soul with. Often, on nights like this he would carefully untangle himself from their close embrace soon after Shūhei had fallen asleep to sit and guard over the sleeping figure, enjoying the quiet, intimate moments and carefully committing them to memory as he mapped out his fukutaicho's form and teased though his unruly hair. Lazily, a finger moved to trace the strong jawline, feeling the rough edges of the vertical scars that marred the smooth-skinned face. He knew how Shūhei had gotten those scars, all those years ago at the academy. They were a tangible reminder of that night; the night he had first felt the pain of losing comrades and the heavy weight of the responsibility of command that were to become his life in the Gotei. A life he chose. A life they had all chosen, for whatever reasons. He knew the reason Shūhei had applied for the academy, to become a shinigami. He knew somewhere that tribute was inked onto his skin. And he admired him for it. Drawing a finger lightly over Shūhei's nose, he traced where he imagined that tattoo to be. The dedication and devotion so freely given was astounding. Leaning in carefully, he pressed a kiss to the exposed forehead, his lips lingering on the heated skin a moment before he sat upright again, and smoothed a hand over the warm brow.

That dedication and loyalty he had once so bitterly despised. Although Shūhei hadn't come fresh from the Academy brimming with overt optimism and a sense of invincibility as most new members to the Division did, he had still regarded him as worthless. Just another kid following yet another dream. He had pushed his newest seated division member as far from his daily routine as possible, and waited for him to go away; to drop away. Only he hadn't. Step by step, piece by piece, the boy had earned his place, zealously attending to his duties, training and studying far beyond what was expected of new recruits. Slowly, he'd come to realise that Shūhei was more than he'd taken him for. The hard work didn't end because he'd achieved something – it continued because there was still something more to work for.

As captain of Shūhei's division, there was of course an automatic sense of respect and duty that the new recruit felt towards him, as he would have had towards any other commanding officer. The boy was obviously determined to prove himself worthy of the position he held, and to push himself further to achieve more. Seeing the devotion the new seated member had for his subordinated opened his eyes to the potential. He began to realise that Shūhei was more than he'd initially taken him for, and as he watched, the boy before him turned into a strong, admirable young man.

And after more time yet, he found himself earning the loyalty that he had so scorned the young division member for showing to the former 9th division captain. It happened gradually, in the smallest of ways: the uplifted aura in Shūhei's reiatsu when he received praise from his captain during training; the obvious respect and consideration of his captain's words; the concerned offer to stay late on the days when paperwork just wouldn't complete itself; the fierce defence of his blind 'pathetic' captain in the face of his friends' sneering at the 'weak' division. Listening to that argument, he could tell that Shūhei was proud of his division, yet he was also proud of his captain as an individual. He respected his captain as an individual. As the antagonists lost their argument in the face of Shūhei's words – which were clam and meaningful despite the obvious offense his friend's had caused him – he began to realise he had been mistaken. Shūhei had never been the naïve boy he had taken him for.

Shūhei shifted in his sleep, moving closer to his captain. He looked so peaceful when sleeping, so untroubled by the pain of his past. Asleep, there were no burdens weighing on him, no duties expected of him; there was no show, no pretence. It was a state they all wished to reach in their waking moments, and very few ever managed to achieve. He leant in close again, breathing in the scent of Shūhei's hair – cinnamon, ginger and the subtle musk that was uniquely Shūhei. Finally, he carefully shifted, sliding back into the bed. Wrapping an arm round his lover, he pressed kisses to the cheeks, the eyelids, the forehead and finally the lips before him. He knew that Shūhei could wake, but also that he wouldn't. There was no reason to. The man in his arms trusted him so completely and implicitly that he let his lover watch over him, and completely gave over to the warmth of slumber, unafraid of harm befalling him. Shūhei was trusting. Trusting and loyal. He always had been, and always would be. That was what broke his already torn heart. The man who had helped him live again, and to love again, was the one he was going to harm the most. He was going to shatter Shūhei's world into a million tiny fragments, and leave him there, broken and bleeding in the depths of misery and betrayal. He was going to kill him.

Yet, he knew that Shūhei would live again. That was his gift – he was stronger than diamond, adaptable as water and fiercer than flame. A wound would tear right through his very heart and soul, yet Shūhei would survive. Something he himself couldn't do.

It was a sin to love, and to be loved. Yet he did it anyway. Because, sin though it was to cause his lover more pain, he knew that one day Shūhei would understand. His life had started on its course to this one focal point a hundred years ago, and it was unstoppable. Maybe one day he would have the chance to explain. Maybe he wouldn't. But he knew that his actions had always been true. There had never once been any falsity in the love and adoration he'd given his subordinate. Even in times to come when Shūhei will doubt the sincerity of anything that had ever passed between them, he knew the other would know in his heart of hearts that what they'd shared had been true. It was just that his path was already chosen before they met. His life had already been lived. The time with Shūhei was a gift – the most precious thing he'd ever been given, and he would keep loving and adoring Shūhei right until the end, until the time finally came to leave this dream behind.

It was his own life that was over. Leaving Seireitei, leaving Shūhei – that would be the end. Beyond that there was nothing – only the oblivion of life-long obligation and obedience. But he had chosen. If he could chose again, he knew that he'd stay.

But he couldn't.

There were just these few dying moments that he had left to cling to, nothing more. Time had always been counting down to the one impending final show. He had always known that. Yet now, with the pieces all poised for play, it seemed too close; too real. For a moment, he had forgotten which life was the one he truly existed in.

He wouldn't regret what he'd shared with Shūhei. He couldn't. Nor would he waste what little time he had left of the life that could have been. He owed Shūhei that, at least. Tomorrow was yet to come, and for today at least, he was completely his lover's.

Finally closing his sightless eyes, he relaxed, trying to commit every tiny thing he could sense about that moment to memory. The soft breathing of his lover, the shared warmth of the duvet, the defined muscles resting under an open palm and the soft flesh of the cheek he rested his forehead against. Somewhere in the distance a bird broke out in short chorus.

The warm body against him shifted slightly, and a hand sought his out, closing it in a tight embrace. Finding his heart content, his mind at peace, he began to fall asleep, wrapped in the dying dream. A final whispered prayer fell from his lips…

_May he who brought me to life so end it..._

_Shūhei..._


End file.
